


circles

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like the cycle of the seasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. spring

She'd often ask him if he was cold, and he'd always be a little surprised by the question. Why would he be cold? He still didn't quite get it even as she pulled out her sleeping roll and gestured vaguely at the furs.

"What about it?"

Katara shrugged a little. "Well, I just noticed that you never used one. You always sleep on Appa or the ground. Doesn't it get cold?"

"Not really."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh." But despite the curious look on her face, she didn't ask any more questions. Aang knelt down next to her and just watched her smooth down the fabric.

It was beautiful, now that he actually paid attention to it. Despite everything it'd gone through during their journey--countless camps, countless attacks--it was still the same rich navy hue, edged with Water Tribe embroidery and trimmed with pale fur.

"Pretty," he said. She grinned cheekily. For a moment, he had to catch his breath.

"You just noticed? Gran-gran made it for me. Of course it's pretty."

"Oh, right! Obviously." He had to laugh at her teasing, but then frowned in thought as something occurred to him. "Wait a minute. You lived in the south pole your whole life!... I mean, until you met me. If anyone's used to the cold, it's you. You don't need a sleeping bag to keep warm, either."

"Huh? Of course I do!" ... well, he did kinda have a point. Katara puffed out her cheeks. "Maybe. It's just more comfortable this way! Lying on the ground seems so... rocky."

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

She narrowed her eyes, but Aang thought he knew her well enough to tell when she was being really annoyed. For the most part. You could never really be certain, with Katara. "It might be, but don't you dare tell Toph."

"I won't," he swore, zipping his lips shut and beaming when she smiled, when she leaned over to seal the promise with a light kiss.

"You'd better not. I don't want to insult anyone, but... c'mon. Sleeping bags beat bare rock any day." She climbed into it like a bird returning to its nest, and as she slowly pulled her hair from its tie he couldn't help but reach out to run his fingers through, admiring its thick waviness and the darkening of her cheeks as she pretended not to notice.

She closed her eyes briefly, as if she was a little afraid to admit it.

"It just reminds me of home."

And when Aang's stroking faltered somewhat she opened her eyes again to find him looking elsewhere, into the sky.

He wasn't upset. He was a nomad. His people were nomads. The whole of the world was their home, and the whole of humanity was their family. He'd traveled everywhere in the four nations, met countless people and their own homes, their own families.

It'd never really occurred to him that he'd been lacking anything. Homes and families were just something that happened to other people. It'd be silly to feel sad. Like being jealous of their eye color, or their hair.

There's no point, right? He was a nomad, just like the rest of his people were.

But unlike the rest of his people, he was still alive, still in the world, and still alone despite it all.

Katara touched his hand, and he looked down. She slowly tangled her fingers in his. He gave hers a squeeze.

Well, maybe not completely alone.

"Hey, um," it was getting darker, but he could still hear the pause as she worried her lower lip, the slightest intake of breath. "I know you're not cold, but it's a little windy and... rocky out. C'mon."

He could feel her hand gently tug him towards her, hear her shift in the furs of her sleeping roll. "Want to share?"

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then to her cheek as she gave a shy laugh and opened her covers to let him in. In the end, it did turn out to be a little cramped. But it felt like home.

He might not have blood relatives or a place to come back to, but he had someone to keep him warm and grounded to the things that really mattered. That was enough.


	2. summer

All she wants is to steal his will.

When she opens her eyes, she finds him methodically stripping off his shirt, but the look on his face was just full of resigned exasperation. He'd probably complain about how unromantic she was making this, but... in all seriousness, Aang's idea of romance had always been rather unique. Forever girl? It was sweet, and she wasn't the sort of person to get embarrassed easily. But occasionally she had to wonder if she deserved the name. If she deserved him.

Occasionally, such as now. She examined his body critically, even as her fingertips traced his familiar sky-blue tattoos up his arms, down the nape of his neck. Aang shivered under her touch. There were some things not even the both of them had control over, and she smiled fiercely. She hoped she would always be able to hold such power over him, even as she wished she didn't.

There didn't seem to be any bruises or surface wounds, but maybe there were some internal ones. She flicked the cap of her pouch open and cupped the glowing water in her palms.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

The water shimmered over his shoulderblades, but couldn't find anything to heal. He could probably hear the edge in her voice. The corner of his lips quirked in a pacifying smile.

"Of course not. So little faith in me, sweetie?" That grin annoyed her. She tried her best to kiss it off.

"This isn't a laughing matter!"

"I know it isn't." There weren't any internal injuries near his chest or sides, either. Still... she hesitated for only a moment until she ghosted her hands over his heart, feeling it thrum reassuringly under her palms and create ripples in her healing water that reverberated in circles with each beat. She didn't say anything.

"Are you angry at me?"

"What?" the question nearly broke her concentration. A few droplets fell from her fingertips, but with a flick of her wrists they rose again in tiny rivers, spiraling through the air back to her hands. Rivers flowing upstream. For a moment, the grayscale image from the day's newspaper flashed to her mind's eye: Aang hovering in mid-air, paralyzed, like a puppet. With the blood in his body under another's control--

"You're angry at me, aren't you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, then bristled at her own tone of voice. "I'm not angry at you, I'm angry for you. If there's anyone I should be angry at, it's him!"

"Should be?"

"Am. I am angry at him. Obviously!" the healing water dimmed somewhat. Ice crackled into existence at the edges as liquid solidified. She could feel blood rushing to her ears, heat even as the cold of frost shimmered at her fingers.

"You sound like you're trying to convince someone," he said. Ice prickled at his bare skin. Katara always had problems controlling her temper sometimes, but he was patient. He would be there for her.

For now she bit the inside of her lip and, with what seemed like an effort, gave a wave of one hand, melted the ice and bending the water back into her pouch. There was nothing to heal. Aang was fine. He'd taken care of things and came out stronger for it, as always. If she thought about things logically, she probably didn't have a very good reason to be upset... not that she was going to let that stop her or anything.

"I'm the Avatar," he said plantively, as if she could read her mind. "It's my job to deal with people like him, and keep balance--"

"I know that. I know that!" when she got frustrated like this... well, maybe it was a good thing she wasn't in her element. In the south pole, she could split icebergs. Here in their home in Republic City, frost snapped in and out as motes in the air around her, some dissipating instantly, some falling in glittering flakes onto Aang's bare shoulders and her dark hair. He brushed some off for her.

"... What's the problem?"

She could practically feel the power of the full moon coursing through her veins. The storm intensified, a drumming of rain against the window that almost echoed the beating of his heart under her open palm.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," she said, and reluctantly pulled her hand away from his chest. If she didn't touch him, if she couldn't make sure he was okay...

Images kept flashing through her head, like lightning through the window. Aang hanging limply in mid-air, Yakone's shadow in the distance with arms outstretched in a too-familiar stance.

Aang's face, years ago, as he was thrown through the air towards her brother's sword.

"Do you remember Hama?"

It wasn't as if she expected him to say no. He was probably expecting this too. "Of course I do."

She couldn't quite look him in the eye, and she sat down to run a hand through her loose hair. It was still a little damp from her display of snow in summer. How could she find the right thing to say?

"She developed that technique in prison. And after she escaped... she couldn't have met another waterbender when she was living underground in the Fire Nation. Not until she met me. I was supposed to be the only one who knew about it!"

"Other people would have discovered it on their own, eventually. And they did." He rubbed his beard. "That's why it's illegal."

"Criminals don't care if it's illegal, they'll do it either way!" she snapped. "And they did. He did. Someone was able to control you--the Avatar! Aren't you worried at all?"

"I don't know if I need to be," he ventured another faint grin. "You're worrying enough for the both of us."

It was true, and she opened her mouth for a scathing reply, but the weight of his hand on her shoulder stopped her. She was far too tense. He brushed through a damp lock of her hair, fingertips trailing icemelt that floated into spirals with a twist of his wrist. The tiny water whips swirled like snakes in the air, then around his fingers as he bent the water to a globe in his open palm.

Aang didn't have the gift of healing, but he did have gifted hands. There was a vase of fire lilies he'd picked for her sitting on the tale. He let the water splash lightly into the glass and let his hands fall aginst the curve of her neck, rubbing rhythmically. She closed her eyes, breathed in.

She could feel the ridges on his fingertips, the pad of his thumb against her spine, the calluses from glider flight. If she listened carefully, she could even feel the singing of blood through the veins in his wrists, telling her, reassuring her that he was alive. It would be so easy.

"I should've been there," she said. "He wouldn't have been able to bloodbend me. I could have protected you like I did back then. Why didn't I?"

"Katara--"

"That technique should have died with Hama." A slow breath. "Or with me."

The hands on her shoulder shifted. He hugged her. She still didn't trust herself to open her eyes, but she breathed in his scent like she was drowning. Somehow, he always smelled like wet grass, like the wind. On full moons like tonight's, he smelled sanguine. But then again, everyone did.

"Bloodbending isn't your fault." He stroked a thumb under her eyelid. She hadn't noticed that she'd been crying, but she had just come close to losing him.

"It feels like it."

His arms tightened around her, and she clung back, buried her face in the crook of his neck. When she licked her lips, she could practically taste the pulse in his throat. She wished that she had never learned that technique. She hoped that he would never fall under another's control again.

"I'm here," he repeated, just letting her tears run rivulets down his neck. He kissed her ear, her still-wet hair. "I love you."

She whispered the words back to him, her lips pressing each syllable to his throat.

_Please love me_.

He never failed to show her how much he did.


End file.
